Tonight I have nothing witty to write.
I spent hours today ignoring my life,
fortifying a planter
for dead and dry twigs,
I learned to make match books
from payphones and kids.
Now I sit on this homework
and I twist it around,
as my options fall empty,
and with nary a sound
they pick up all the puzzles
found in paperback books,
look round at the payphones
and give them sad looks.
For only sons know their mothers
will soon be undone,
and an answer is no use
without proper questions.
so find time to know freedom,
and lessen your haste,
and always remember
to let children eat paste.
